


A Shape in the Air

by kathryne



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Grief/Mourning, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 03:52:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16233659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathryne/pseuds/kathryne
Summary: There are days when it seems what she's sacrificed to the fight has left nothing worth fighting for.





	A Shape in the Air

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chainofclovers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chainofclovers/gifts).



> Yay, femslash! Thanks for the chance to write this pairing. I hope you enjoy it! And thanks to walkthegale for beta and hand-holding. :D
> 
> If you haven't read Claudia Grey's _Leia, Princess of Alderaan_ , you should know that on Amilyn's homeworld of Gatalenta, they practice "skyfaring," which is essentially aerial silks; it's a meditation technique intended to help practitioners become "unmoored from the ground." Yes, Amilyn's a space hippie!

_I am always in too many worlds, sand sifting through my hands,_  
     _another me speeding through the air, another me waving_  
_from a train window watching you_  
       _waving from a train window watching me._  
\- Ada Limon to Natalie Diaz, "Sometimes I Think My Body Leaves a Shape in the Air"

**

In the middle of the command centre, surrounded on all sides by glowing star charts that arched above her, Leia felt, for once in her life, small. 

Routes appeared and disappeared on the maps, each representative of a different potential escape. "A strategic retreat," Ackbar said. "Rest and recover," D'Acy said. _Running away to lick our wounds_ , Leia thought, _and find out whether we have any allies left_.

"We thought to repurpose some of the old Rebel Alliance bases," D'Acy said nervously as she brought up yet another projection.

"Like old times," Ackbar added dourly. "But no one will think to look for us amongst the dust." He blinked, nictitating membranes flicking over his bulbous eyes, and looked to Leia.

They needed to choose. They needed Leia to choose.

But when Leia stared at the charts, she didn't see a future. All she saw was her past. Here, on Itapi Prime, Han and Chewie had spent a month hiding out, gathering data on the Empire's reach into the outer rim. She'd only been able to contact them once; the planet would always remind her of how she'd felt seeing Han's dirty, bearded face smiling at her over the staticky comm. There, on Lonera, she and Luke had broken an uneasy silence with unwise jugs of the local moonshine, and both had cried – for different reasons – over the death of their father. So many of the other planets had hosted battles – skirmishes, really, not big enough to have turned the tide of the Rebellion, but Leia could still name each of her comrades who had fallen.

Each map had a series of jumps plotted on it, showing their route through hyperspace to safety. They looked, Leia thought, like the strings of a child's toy, dangling above a small bunk during a bedtime story. And the moment she made that connection, the memories came rushing back: sitting on the edge of Ben's bunk with Han, telling him about the Rebellion. They'd sanitized what they shared, of course, never mentioned the grinding hunger, the cold, the fear. They'd spoken of the friendships they made and the moments of humour that stood out despite – or perhaps because of – the terror. 

Leia herself had grown up listening to her father's tales of the Clone Wars. She'd learned of the adventures first, and only later, when she was older, had they shared discussions of diplomacy and strategy. She'd hoped to teach her son similar lessons about trust and the complexity of battle. Instead, Leia had cut the Resistance off from any possibility of safety. She'd compromised them all, revealing them to the very enemy they now sought to flee.

Instinctively, she reached out, opening her senses and stretching her mind across the vastness of space. For years she had comforted herself this way, situating those she loved in the presence of the Force: the flare of heat that was Han, the familiar calmness of Luke, the bright confusion of her son. Ben had been first to disappear from her mind's reach; Luke had either closed himself off or fled beyond her ability to find. Now Han, too, was gone, his absence echoing like a slap.

Leia reached further, knowing it wasn't going to make any difference, yet unable to help herself. They had to come up with a place for the Resistance to hide. Maybe she could literally pull one from thin air.

Nothing. She sighed and began gathering herself, drawing her senses back in. And then she felt it, soft and warm, a presence that filled the emptiness like stepping out of a shuttle into the height of a planet's summer. 

She turned to Connix, who was monitoring the evac preparations. "Has the _Ninka_ arrived?" 

"Uh... yes?" Connix looked slightly startled. "It came out of lightspeed just – just now." 

Leia hid her smile. Sometimes it helped to give the troops something to talk about other than orders. 

"Keep prepping for evac," she said, turning to wend her way through the screens. "We'll share the location of the new base via refueling stations. Stay on task." She paused at the door and stood a little taller. "And someone get a shuttle ready for me."

Most of the ships in the Rebel Fleet smelled the same: the ozone sizzle of short-circuiting equipment, the acid undertone of bacta fluid, the occasional waft of overcooked daro root even when no one had eaten daro root in days. All of that was present on the _Ninka_ , but it was softened by the spice of Gatalentan incense. Leia stepped from the shuttle and smiled. 

"General Organa!" someone gasped. A wave of surprise rippled across the hangar deck. Someone else dropped a wrench, which rattled to the ground.

Leia kept the smile on her face. "As you were," she said gently, before gesturing at the nearest unoccupied astromech droid. It zoomed up to her and beeped excitedly. "Take me to Vice-Admiral Holdo," she requested, and followed in its path, nodding and shaking hands as she went.

The droid led her away from the bridge, which was a surprise, and deeper into the ship. Eventually it stopped at a blank door, bleeped importantly, and whirred off. Leia shrugged, tapped at the entry panel, and waited, hands folded in front of her.

She thought she was ready. When the door swooshed open and she looked up to meet Amilyn's eyes, she realized she'd been wrong. Her voice strangled in her throat. "Surprise," she forced out.

Amilyn's hair had been bright red last time they'd seen each other; she'd been wearing a pilot's uniform and a bandage on her neck. Now she was in a dark green robe, one that Leia knew from experience had been worn thin and soft, and her hair was softer, too, a dusty purple that made her eyes seem even bluer. They'd both changed so much, yet all Leia could see for a moment was Amilyn at sixteen, gawky and uncertain and yet completely dependable.

"I knew you'd come," Amilyn said, and stepped backward.

"I'm too old for this bantha druk, Amilyn." Leia walked into the room and took a deep breath. The incense scent was stronger here – in fact, there was a coil on a low table. 

"You've been saying that for twenty years." Amilyn closed the door and leaned against it, apparently content to watch Leia and wait.

Leia snorted. "Imagine how much more true it is now, then." 

She turned and looked around the room. After being on the run for most of her life, she'd pared down her possessions, both deliberately and due to the destruction she'd lived through again and again. Her rooms on the Raddus were bare and utilitarian; the personal items she cared most about were permanently packed in case of evacuation. Not Amilyn.

Though her clothing choices were much more subdued than they had been when she was a teenager, Amilyn's rooms were as eccentric as ever. The walls were draped in fabric and the floors covered with rugs. Leia recognized several small statues from a trip she and Amilyn had taken decades earlier and marveled at their continued survival. Despite the sheer amount of stuff in the room, though, it didn't feel at all crowded or overwhelming. In fact, Leia found it comforting – but then, it might just have been Amilyn.

She raised a wry eyebrow and gestured to the walls. "No room to set up for skyfaring?" The observation came out sharper than she'd intended.

Amilyn took no notice. She crossed the room in long, smooth strides and placed her hands on Leia's shoulders, looking into her eyes. "You need both feet on the ground right now, I think."

"That's not – I mean – " Amilyn's perceptiveness still had the power to startle Leia. "That's not what I came here to talk about," she managed, lifting her chin and meeting Amilyn's gaze again.

"No?" Amilyn's hands were warm on Leia's shoulders. Leia pulled away.

"Ackbar was very impressed after Chyron Belt." Leia picked up one of the sculptures, a small tree, and ran her fingers over the sharp leaves. "Quite the strategic success you pulled off at the last minute."

Amilyn stepped up next to her. "I'd do it again, if I thought the risk was worthwhile," she said without apology.

Leia clenched her fist around the tiny tree, feeling the metal prick her skin. "I really am too damned old for this," she muttered.

Amilyn reached out and took the tree from Leia's unresisting hand. Lacing their fingers together, she pulled gently, drawing her across the room and down onto a low couch.

"It isn't fair," she said simply. Letting go of Leia's hands, she began pulling pins from Leia's hair. "But we knew going in there would be no retirement plan for old Rebels."

The utilitarian braid Leia had taken to wearing uncoiled easily from around her head; Leia's eyes fluttered shut despite herself as Amilyn ran her fingers through Leia's greying waves. No one had done her hair in – years, probably.

"You could move to Zeltros and rake in the credits doing this." Leia leaned back into the pressure of Amilyn's fingers against her scalp.

Amilyn laughed, but didn't falter. Now she was separating sections of Leia's hair and re-styling it. "Can you imagine," she said lightly, "the two of us on a pleasure planet? You'd be banned from all the sabacc tables for cheating in less than a day, and then how would you keep yourself busy?" She smoothed a few wayward strands of hair back from Leia's forehead and sat back, satisfied.

"I never cheat," Leia protested, turning to face Amilyn. Their knees pressed together.

"I know." Amilyn smiled. "It's more fun to win honestly."

"Someday, we'll go," Leia promised recklessly. "Not Zeltros. We'll go to Bastatha and get kicked out of all the most unsavoury places we can find."

"Ooooh." Amilyn's eyes brightened. "Can we race hovercrafts in the caverns?"

Leia rolled her eyes in fond exasperation. "You'll never change, will you."

Amilyn shook her head no, hair flying, and Leia reached out. "This colour is lovely on you," she whispered, cupping Amilyn's curls.

Tilting her head, Amilyn pressed her cheek into Leia's hand. "It reminded me of the sunrise on Crait. The first rays were so bright on the salt flats once we'd made it through the night."

Crait. That was a planet Leia hadn't thought of in ages. She'd done her best to forget the early days of what would become the Rebellion. Crait, Chalhudda, Paucris Major... they were all too tied up with what she still thought of as the first death on her conscience. That list was long, but Kier's name would always head it. Her relationship with Amilyn was the only thing she still clung to from that time.

Wait. Paucris Major. Most of the space stations had been destroyed by Imperial forces. But the structures on the planet itself – those might still be intact. 

The Paucris system had been the site of what was, at the time, the worst day of Leia's life. She'd had many worse since then. But maybe, just maybe, it could make up for that somewhat by sheltering the Resistance. No one was still alive who remembered the attack. No one except her and Amilyn.

Leia stood abruptly, reaching for her transceiver to contact Ackbar. Amilyn's hand on her wrist stopped her, and she looked down, startled.

"Just go," Amilyn urged gently. "They need you back in command."

"Don't they always." Leia sighed. Bending, she kissed Amilyn's forehead quickly. Amilyn's grip tightened on her wrist, and Leia wavered for just a moment, just long enough for Amilyn to start to let go. At that, Leia bent further and, giving in to instinct, kissed Amilyn properly.

For all their long history, here was something new, in the press of Amilyn's lips against hers. In their brief connection, Leia thought she sensed something more, the ghost of a possible past; then she thought she was making things up, trying to ease her guilt with Han so recently gone. But no: if there was one thing she'd learned over and over throughout these damned wars, it was to grab whatever pleasure she could. Han and Amilyn had both told her that time and again. Han would have been proud she was acting, not thinking; and then she stopped thinking, and only felt.

She straightened, pleased with herself, and took in the extremely rare sight of Amilyn Holdo shocked speechless. There was a long silence, and then Amilyn folded her hands in her lap and said, placidly, "I have a better idea for what we can do on Bastatha."

Leia smiled, and then chuckled, and then she was laughing, full-throated and with tears in her eyes like she hadn't laughed in months, and Amilyn was laughing with her.

"It's a promise," Leia said, already halfway to the door. She didn't hear Amilyn's reply.

In her shuttle, on the way back to the _Raddus_ , Leia finally saw her reflection in the viewscreen. She caught her breath. Without saying a word, Amilyn had fashioned her hair in an old Alderaanian style. It resembled the way she'd worn it when they first met, but on top, it was held in place with a mourning braid. No one else was likely to recognize it, but Leia was immediately reminded why she was fighting – for Han, yes, but for Kier, too, for the casualties at Chyron Belt despite Amilyn's brilliance, for Alderaan and all the Rebels lost decades earlier... and for the years of bedtime stories stolen from her and Ben.

She guided the shuttle into the bay and set it down gently. There was a time for mourning, and a time for action. And when the long night was over and the morning finally came, a time, she hoped, for pleasure.

**

 _Maybe this living is a balance of drunkenness_  
_off nitrogen and the unbearable_  
        _atmosphere of memory._  
\- Natalie Diaz to Ada Limon, "Isn't the Air Also a Body, Moving?"


End file.
